


The Infernal Bodyguard chapter 9.5

by Santillatron



Series: The Infernal Bodyguard [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale is loud (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is tactile (Good Omens), Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Strength Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santillatron/pseuds/Santillatron
Summary: Missing chapter from The Infernal Bodyguard.This is literally just porn with a brief bit of plot in the middle, carried over from the main fic to avoid messing about back and forth.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Infernal Bodyguard [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858468
Comments: 49
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you're joining from the main story, welcome! Enjoy. You're all bad influences. 
> 
> If you've skipped straight to the dirty bit, then here's the basics:  
> They're human, Aziraphale is called Alistair, and Crowley is his bodyguard (yes it's a mashup of that film.)  
> You've missed nine chapters of sexual tension and build up (two of which were the preceding date, and we did the whole sword bit).  
> Feeling guilty? At least go read [chapter 9. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241204/chapters/60766804#workskin)
> 
> Massive thank yous to [BRNZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BRNZ/pseuds/BRNZ) for Beta'ing this for me, and generally giving me some really informative resources that I was never going try and find through an internet search.

“Ngk!”

At first, Alistair didn’t move. Tattoo forgotten, he just admired the aptly described ‘massive’ erection with an open-mouthed wonder. _Trouser snake indeed…_ It was certainly larger than anything he had encountered before, and it was magnificent, its impressive length standing proud in the hard light of the bedside lamp. Fingertips lightly caressing, he reverently explored the contrast between the velvet soft skin and the rock solid core underneath it before wrapping one finger and thumb around and stroking slowly up and down, avidly watching the way the skin moved. 

Crowley whimpered, hips twitching forward with milky precum spilling out on the tip, and Alistair leaned forward and licked it off with a flourish. A life-long gastronomist, Alistair rarely found a flavour he didn’t like and Crowley was no exception. With one more swipe of his tongue over his lips to moisten them, he took as much of Crowley into his mouth as he could, savouring the taste, the heavy satisfying weight on his tongue, the gasps and stuttered breaths. Finally relenting to a full grip, he used his hand and mouth as a team to deliver a slow, torturous pleasure that allowed him to relish every sensation. Crowley truly tasted as good as he looked, and he was going to enjoy him. 

Meanwhile, with Alistair still in full shirtsleeves and on his knees in front of him and devouring him so thoroughly, Crowley was desperately trying to string together enough coherent thought to stay upright and failing. After the third warning from his knees in as many strokes, he was forced to take matters into his own hands and gently urge Alistair off. 

At the nudge of Crowley’s hand to his cheek, Alistair released him, just in time to see Crowley drop rather gracelessly to his knees and nearly tip forward into Alistair’s chest. Unsure what had caused Crowley to push him away, he was relieved when, after a few attempts too garbled with wayward sibilants and consonants, Crowley managed to finally explain. 

“No legs.” 

Alistair chuckled with relief as Crowley flopped over to one side, leant against the bed and struggled out of the remainder of his clothing. 

“How the hell can you look so refined, and then do _that_?” Crowley marvelled after he’d won his battle with his tight trousers. 

“Oh my dear boy,” Alistair said, running his hand up Crowley’s thigh, fingers walking the path of the snake tattoo as his eyes flicked up to Crowley’s, “looks can be deceiving, you should know that.” And he did, but Crowley was beginning to realise that Alistair was intelligent enough to have seen past the two-dimensional tough guy image that he projected, and as terrifying as it was, he also felt relief at being able to be more than the surly pair of sunglasses on legs that people expected. It was already further than any of his past encounters had bothered to look.

Alistair picked up Crowley’s slender hand, turning it over before bringing it to his mouth. He pressed soft, lingering kisses down the side of his palm, moving down to the pale skin of his wrist, lips lingering on his pulse as he looked deep into Crowley’s wide eyes. With an almost mischievous grin that looked surprisingly at home on his face, Alistair released Crowley’s hand before scooping him up in a move reminiscent of the bookshop rescue and standing up. Turning calmly to the bed, Alistair laid Crowley gently down on the soft, grey sheets, sweeping his eyes over his languid form with an appreciative hum, before sitting on the edge of the bed beside him and quickly removing his socks. 

Crowley, stunned by this casual show of strength and startled at being manhandled so easily, hid behind his hands as he felt the heat rise on his face and neck. Alistair (who he noticed with mixed feelings was _still_ dressed) had picked him up without straining at all and fuck was that causing one hell of a reaction. Under all that softness Alistair had the strength to do whatever he wanted to him, and rather than fearful, he found he rather liked it. 

“So now you’re ridiculously strong as well. Remind me why I’m here?” Crowley’s voice was slightly muffled from behind his hands.

“Well… you’re on the bed because I intend to methodically explore every inch of you in the pursuit of carnal pleasure, and it might get a little uncomfortable on the floor. Your legs, despite being wonderfully long and elegant, are too wayward at present it seems for the wall to be an option, and the desk is likely to be a tad chilly, not to mention the other side of your flat, ergo: bed. However, if you are referring to your _employment_ , it is because if all I needed was brute strength then I would handle this myself, as distasteful as that thought is. I need speed, intelligence, and cunning and my dear, you are like the wily fox in that regard. You even have the right hair.”

Crowley gulped as he felt stout fingers twirling into his hair, and he leaned into the touch. He was coming to realise that underneath all that sartorial elegance and charm and impeccable enunciation, Alistair was impressively lustful, and Crowley’s subversive streak found that hot as fuck. _It’s always the quiet ones…_

“Right. Can we just go back to the first bit?”

“The methodical hunting down of every pleasurable sensation I can possibly elicit from your person?” Crowley could hear the smirk behind his words and he was all too aware of the way Alistair’s voice was affecting him, the low rumble of it at odds with the lightness of his tone. There was no way Alistair couldn’t see it from where he was, the bastard. 

“Yeah, that one.” Crowley still had his hands over his face. _Oh fuck I’m turned on by a walking thesaurus. And an out of date one at that._

Alistair trailed his fingers lightly down the centre of Crowley’s chest through the dusting of darkly rouged hair, noting with amusement that the collar did indeed match the cuffs. He looked stunning like this, laid out on soft sheets, naked aside from that delightful chain, cock straining and falling under its own weight. The bedside lamp threw harsh light across his body, revealing every sharp angle and dip, every lean muscle that flexed and moved under his skin in sharp relief. Alistair dearly wished he could see Crowley’s eyes. Here was a creature that deserved a refined touch, and Alistair had been refining his touch for some time. 

His fingers stopped somewhere below Crowley’s navel. “Do I take that as consent to resume?”

Crowley groaned, then drew his hands slightly away so he could give Alistair a Look to go with his sarcastic reply.

“No, I’m just ithyphallic for… shits…” He trailed off when he saw Alistair, another button undone at his collar and both sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. Crowley was wholly unprepared for just how maddenly sexy forearms and collarbones could be, and he stared.

“Crowley, my dear, it’s rude to stare.” Alistair calmly admonished him. 

“Not staring, ogling. Totally different. You’re ridiculous, nobody wears suspenders. Where do you even buy them these days?” Crowley rambled as he sat up, scrambling into Alistair’s lap without breaking his hungry gaze. “They’re bizarrely erotic and you should take them off immediately. I’ll help.” 

Alistair simply chuckled as Crowley ran his hands up the inside of the suspenders, pulling them slightly to feel the stretch. His face was right in front of Alistair’s now, the lamp throwing new shadows across it, making his sharp jaw even more defined, his nose even more dramatic, it was a chiaroscuro work of art and Alistair couldn’t help himself. One hand holding firm on Crowley’s lower back, he brought the other up and dragged his thumb across Crowley’s bottom lip, his fingers relaxed and resting lightly along his jaw. Crowley’s eyes snapped up to look at him, as his hands stilled, gripping tightly on to the elastic of the suspenders. Then, as Alistair watched, he licked his lips and opened his mouth in invitation, pushing his tongue up against the pad of Alistair’s thumb as he slid it inside. Crowley’s mouth was burning hot, feeding the flame of desire in Alistair that was lit the moment he saw Crowley with all his arrogant insouciance, and he couldn’t look away. He could feel Crowley’s tongue quivering under his thumb, feel his lips start to close around it and Alistair tugged his jaw gently down to keep it open. He wanted to see. In response, Crowley curled up the sides of his tongue, cupping Alistair’s thumb with gentle pressure. 

“Oh you wicked thing…” Alistair was rendered breathless by the indecent display of eroticism in front of him. Then he looked up and stormy blue met burning amber just as Crowley took advantage of his distraction and closed his lips around Alistair’s thumb and sucked, his tongue dragging up Alistair’s thumb. Alistair’s eyelids fluttered as he let out a low moan, before looking straight into Crowley’s eyes, pulling his thumb out with a lewd pop, sliding his arms under Crowley’s tight, perfectly rounded bottom and thighs, and standing up. 

Crowley let out a sound that he would never admit to being rather more squeaky than he was used to, as Alistair easily hefted him into the air. He frantically wrapped his arms and legs around Alistair’s body, before realising that Alistair’s arms were holding him up quite happily all by themselves. His body shivered at the thought of just how easily Alistair was able to literally man-handle him just as his back hit the mattress, swiftly followed by Alistair as he was pinned down body and mouth. Alistair’s kisses were deep and insistent, his hips grinding him into the mattress with a sense of urgency. Crowley had never felt so powerless before, so wanted or so desperately turned on. 

Alistair pried Crowley’s hands away where he’d pushed the suspenders off his shoulders and slipped his arms out, all the while mapping out the most sensitive parts of Crowley’s throat with his lips and tongue and teeth, relishing the taste of him. That wonderfully dark, elusive, earthy smell was there, taunting him. He felt Crowley’s hands on his trousers, fighting with the fastenings and pushing them down and he was overcome with the need to be rid of them, when the movement stopped.

“Alistair, are you…?” Crowley craned his neck around Alistair’s shoulder to look down. “You bloody are, aren’t you. You’re wearing silk fucking boxers. Gah you are impossible. If I’d have known you had these on I’d have done the sword trick with them. Far more interesting. Still might.”

Alistair pulled away, leaning over Crowley on his hands and knees and looking defensive while he removed the trousers that were bunched low around his thighs, kicking them to the floor to leave him in just his navy blue, silk boxers and rumpled white shirt. 

“They’re comfortable.” He stated. “And I’ll thank you not to try any of your fancy tricks with my underwear.”

Crowley flopped his arms and legs out in dramatic defeat and looked away.

“Ugh. I never said I didn’t _like_ them, Angel.” He complained.

Alistair dipped his head down and swept his tongue over one of Crowley’s nipples, causing him to yelp in surprise, then moan and arch his back as Alistair brought his hand up and brushed a thumb over the other one. He carried on his gentle, controlled onslaught over Crowley’s torso and legs, tracing the looping body of the serpent on his hip with his tongue. 

Crowley was beside himself. Every time he tried to touch Alistair his hand was removed and placed pointedly above his head and it was making him desperate. The rhythm of light, teasing strikes, and firm, grounding touches was keeping him suspended on a knife edge, not to mention that bloody shirt was still buttoned up, refusing him the feel of Alistair’s skin yet taunting him with the heat of it through the thin cotton. Every touch, the merest brush of material, was turning his skin to flame as warm hands held him still while his body was mercilessly kissed or bitten or stroked until he whimpered. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, and yet the fire pooling low in his belly, the burning furnace of arousal, was demanding more. And all the while he could feel the smooth silk of Alistair’s underwear slip and slide against the inside of his thighs where Alistair was denying him the relief of a little pressure, and he loved the ridiculous sensuality of it almost as much as he wanted to rip them off with his teeth. 

Alistair was delighting in how responsive Crowley was. The few sounds he made were quiet and controlled but he more than made up for it with the way his body writhed and squirmed and bucked under Alistair’s touch, always leaning into him, always urging for more. It was incredible to behold. It occurred to Alistair that life as a bodyguard must be a lonely one, with little opportunity for affection. He had no way of knowing when Crowley was last touched like this, but judging by the way his body was responding, it must have been some time. Featherlight, teasing strokes seemed to result in tense muscles and bitten lips, air hissed in through teeth, but firm grasps where Alistair’s fingers pressed deep into his flesh saw him melting again with low moans. If Alistair got his way, Crowley would be lavished with as much affectionate touch as he could provide, at every appropriate opportunity.

“You are quite simply stunning, my dear.” He murmured into Crowley’s stomach as he kissed his way up towards his face. “You took my breath away that day in the hallway you know, I’m afraid I was quite useless for some time afterwards.” 

“Nnnnnhh shuddup.” Crowley complained. “You’re only saying that because I’m letting you have the high ground.”

Alistair pulled back from where he’d been swirling his tongue around a deliciously firm nipple, propped himself up on his elbows and looked at him, his resolve to drown him in affection now extending to verbal compliments as well, but being as he was somewhat of a bastard, he relished the thought of applying them at _inappropriate_ moments.

“Letting me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at Crowley’s heavy lidded smirk and delighting in his beautifully flushed face and neck and his wonderfully dishevelled hair. The soft grey sheets above his head were wrinkled around him where he had been gripping them, having finally given up trying to remove his hands from where Alistair kept returning them. Alistair wanted to remember him looking like this, so relaxed and open, so vulnerable, just pure Crowley without all his armour of sunglasses and stylish clothing, a view of him that he could selfishly tuck away as his and his alone. _Stunning._

“Yep. I’m only letting you get away with this because I like you.” Crowley replied, dizzy at the idea of Alistair holding him down, or, perhaps even better, overpowering him and _then_ holding him down. His life normally depended on him making sure that didn’t happen, yet he could now see the appeal of it in certain circumstances. 

Alistair laughed again and leant in for a kiss, sliding his hands along Crowley’s arms towards his wrists with a view to pinning them down as he murmured “Well my dear boy, if you think you can ‘turn the tables’, so to speak, I’d like to see you tr-” but before he could finish that sentence Crowley writhed and twisted underneath him and suddenly he was flipped onto his back. Crowley, now sat up and straddling his hips, smirked in that devilish way that left Alistair with an overwhelming urge to feel that mouth on him.

“You were saying?” Crowley asked, one eyebrow raised as he began to finally undo those bloody buttons on that blasted shirt. Each new glimpse of Alistair’s chest was only confirming his suspicion that it was a crime to hide it under so many layers. 

Now it was Alistair’s turn to ogle at the sight of Crowley, gloriously naked, sat astride him. He ran his hands lightly up and down Crowley’s torso and thighs before settling them on his hips with a tight grasp. 

“There’s a lot to be said for the element of supriiiiiiiiuuuugh” Crowley descended into groaning as Alistair pulled his hips firmly down as he rocked his own up, grinding his erection against Crowley’s arse. Crowley dropped the button he had been working on and slammed his hands flat against Alistair’s chest, pushing back into the sensation. It was a new one for him, certainly, but he seemed to be finding all sorts of things that he didn’t know worked for him tonight. Making quick work of the rest of the buttons, he leaned down as far as he could reach and licked a wet stripe up Alistair’s chest and throat, stopping next to his ear to flick the lobe with his tongue before gently teasing it between his teeth. 

“Oh you wicked, _wicked_ thing.” Alistair breathed, reaching between and grabbing Crowley’s cock in a solid grip as Crowley’s hips rocked and he fucked into his grasp, all the while sliding roughly over Alistair’s silk covered erection. 

Alistair thought he might come just at the sight of such a devastatingly beautiful man taking such pleasure from him, and one glance at Crowley’s leaking cock pumping through his fist nearly sent him over the edge. But while it would be a wonderful way to go, hot and lewd and decadent, he wanted more. Alistair released Crowley’s cock, ignoring the whine of protest and quickly rolled them both back over, pinning Crowley down into the firm mattress once more. 

Crowley moaned into it and wrapped his legs around Alistair, dragging him in until their hips were flush, their cocks slipping and sliding indecently against each other through the silk as Alistair ground against him. Crowley had one hand on the back of Alistair’s neck, the other on his arse as he pulled him down into a fierce skirmish of lips and tongue and muffled moans. Alistair tried to speak through Crowley’s unrelenting assault. 

“If you’re- mmpf- amenable my dear, I would- mmmmpf- very much like- mmmummmpf- Crowley!” Alistair pulled his body up out of reach, breaking contact. “To fuck you into oblivion.”

Crowley’s body stilled as his head pushed back into the pillows with a groan. 

“Alistair I swear you are going to be the death of me, talking like that.” Crowley snaked his hands up Alistair’s bare torso to rub over his nipples lightly, before raking his fingers up inside the shirt and down his back, just a hint of fingernail, urging him back down. He loved the way the two sides of the open shirt fell down around them, trapping him underneath Alistair, enveloping him completely in the warmth and softness. 

“Is that a ‘no’ then? Alistair asked as he raised further up onto his hands, his voice perfectly level and controlled.

“No… uh, yes… I mean… Argh! I’m amenable I guess. To being fucked. By you. ‘Into oblivion’, as you said.” Crowley admitted, avoiding eye contact. 

“Splendid!” Alistair said with a wiggle and an excited expression, which earned him an eye roll, but the twitch he felt somewhat undermined it. Crowley still looked unsure however.

“My dear, you don’t seem sure. Is this your preferred way?” Alistair asked.

“‘M normally top if that’s what you mean.” Crowley said quickly, his hands coming to rest on Alistair’s biceps, avoiding his gaze. Previous liaisons had always expected him to be in charge, so that was the role he’d filled. If he’d known it would be like this he would have tried being held down a bit more. But that wasn’t quite true was it? This sort of thing required trust and while he was good at getting others to trust him, he found it almost impossible to place this level of trust in anyone else. Until Alistair it seemed. _Good God where has he been hiding these muscles…_

“Dearest, have you done it this way before at all?” Alistair asked again.

Crowley shook his head, gripping Alistair’s arms tightly. 

“Are you sure you want to?”

“Please…” Crowley looked at him, nodding his head and digging his fingers into Alistair’s arms. They felt reassuringly solid under his hands, and while, yes, Crowley was slightly apprehensive at the barrage of ‘new’, he had an overwhelming desire to feel these arms wrapped around him. For once, he wanted to be the one being held. By Alistair, for preference. Right now, please. _Since when do I say ‘please’?!_

“Well then, we’re going to need-”

Crowley shot out an arm, pointing at the bedside table. Alistair dragged himself out of Crowley’s grasp and pulled open the top drawer. He looked at the neat array of knives with intrigue. _Weapons everywhere._ He thought with mild amusement. 

“My dear, that is not the sort of protection I was thinking of.”

Crowley craned his neck around to see what Alistair meant. 

“No, middle drawer.”

Alistair closed the knife drawer, and opened the one beneath it. Ah. This was more like it. Supplies in hand he returned to his spot between Crowley’s legs and paused a moment to appreciate his languid, sinuous form all laid out for his delectation. Relinquishing himself of his remaining clothing, he let his gaze wander up and down Crowley’s lean body. It was simply delightful from the tips of his flamboyant hair, to the ends of his… _painted_ toes. And who knew that the sight of black painted toenails could stir such a hunger in Alistair?

Crowley sneaked a glance down at Alistair’s cock standing proud in a nest of pale curls. Much like its owner, it was pleasing to look at, average in size with a generous girth. Even his bloody cock was genteel and charming, but Crowley was reminded that looks can be deceiving. It took a lot to scandalise him these days and he suspected Alistair might just be the man to do it. _Bring it on._

“My dear, if all demons are this enticing,” Alistair said as his gaze swept up and down Crowley’s body, his arms splayed about his head like a broken halo, the chain puddled to one side of his neck, his cock lewd and desperate, “I can completely understand how people would be tempted into sin.” Alistair squeezed some lube onto his fingers and rubbed them together to warm it slightly. There was no hiding from the fact that he wanted Crowley, badly, and Alistair always took the time to enjoy the things he wanted. 

“Alistair, if all Angels were like you then I can understand why only old people go to chur-AH!” Crowley yelped as Alistair pressed his finger to his hole and drew small circles on it, smirking. 

“Now Crowley you must let me know if you want me to stop.” Alistair said. Crowley nodded, doubting very much that he was going to do that. Alistair took his finger away and shifted around so he was lying on his side next to Crowley, pulling his nearest leg up to rest over his own. He skimmed the back of his hand down Crowley’s body, giving his cock a couple of light, slippery strokes before gently fondling his testicles, watching his face all the time for any sense of discomfort. 

Crowley shuffled closer to him, trying to nuzzle his face into any part of Alistair he could reach, his hand between them searching for Alistair’s cock. Not content with just that, his free arm was restless in its quest to explore Alistair, finding the best spots to hold onto, returning often to the back of Alistair’s neck. The hand wrapped around Alistair’s cock didn’t have the space to move much, but just the feel of it in his hand was enough to drive him to distraction with need. 

For someone who seemed so stand-offish day to day, Alistair found Crowley to be incredibly tactile as he sought constant physical contact. He thought it simply criminal for someone so divine as this to be so starved of touch. Leaning up on his elbow, he let his hand drop into Crowley’s hair, running his fingers though it as his other hand slipped further down to press around and _in._

“Relax darling, I’ve got you.” He whispered, avidly drinking in every little change to Crowley’s face, the wide, dilated eyes at the first intrusion, the way he was biting his lip, watching him adjust to this new sensation. He felt honoured to be the first to witness this, to be the one that Crowley trusted himself with. Alistair took his time making sure Crowley enjoyed this process, adding extra fingers as necessary until he was completely ready. Crowley’s body was responding marvellously to his touch, the leg hooked over his put to good use to pull himself down onto Alistair’s questing fingers. It was extraordinary to watch as he burrowed closer and closer to Alistair the more he dropped his guard. Observing him losing himself like this was a sweet torment of decadent pleasure for Alistair, made all the more arousing as Crowley had one hand wrapped desperately around his cock. 

Crowley cried out a sudden “FUCK!” and arched off the bed as Alistair found the spot he’d been zeroing in on. He slid over it a couple more times, watching the way Crowley’s cock bounced and leaked as he did so, marvelling at the way his eyes rolled back, his hand shooting down to grab and pull at Alistair’s wrist, and chuckling at the whispered “B’st’rd” that followed, falling as it was from lips that had been rendered mute some time ago. He feasted on the sight of Crowley, skin flushed with the arousal and the warmth, the harsh light reflecting off of sweat-slick muscles that writhed and strained as his body undulated and sought out yet more contact as if to smother himself in Alistair. It was beautiful to behold. Crowley was reduced to whimpering by the time Alistair finally withdrew and picked up the condom. 

Crowley had never felt so in focus before, as when Alistair’s finger first breached into him. He could have tried to remain alert, but then Alistair ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair and suddenly the world was too far away to worry about, and there was only the feeling of being held, safe and secure. He lost himself completely, briefly resurfacing as Alistair found what he presumed was his prostate, before realising he was in serious danger of coming untouched just on this. His cock was screaming for a few good, strong pulls to give him that final push, so he concentrated on feeling Alistair under his hands to try to hold off. Then suddenly the feeling was gone, and Crowley craved its return, blearily raising his head to see Alistair kneeling just past his feet, rolling a condom on and adding some extra lubricant.

“My dear you are exquisite. However, as much as I would like to have my wicked way with you right now, it would be prudent to let you do this at your own pace.” Alistair said, one hand extended towards Crowley. Crowley allowed himself to be pulled up to kneeling, and arranged so he was straddling Alistair. Alistair’s hand was guiding him without pushing, until he was poised on the tip of Alistair’s cock where it was steadied in his hand. Crowley brought his hands up to cup Alistair’s face and kiss him, before shifting his hold to his shoulders as he began to press himself down onto the solid warmth. The stretch was unusual, but not unpleasant. An overload of sensation that his brain was choosing to read as pleasurable, scrambling any chance of coherent thought. Just as it began to feel like it might become too much, the head of Alistair’s cock slipped inside and both of them let out a moan, faces still pressed together, breaths mingling. Only Alistair’s steadying hands on his hips stopped him from falling down too fast. 

“You’re doing so well my dear, take your time.” Alistair encouraged, the gravelly sound of his voice sending a shiver down Crowley’s spine that had them both gasping again. Gradually Crowley sank right down to take him all in, and Alistair held him still in a bruising grip, allowing them both to adjust. Crowley was drunk on the sensation of fullness, of closeness, of _completeness,_ and yet he wanted more. His own cock was nestled into Alistair’s stomach and the way it yielded softly, welcoming it, was yet another thing contributing to him rapidly losing his mind. He tried to rise up and the usually tenuous command he had over his legs once again got distracted by the explosion of sensory input where he was clenched around Alistair’s cock. He managed a couple of weak, half-rises and falls before admitting defeat. 

“Are you ok, dearest?” Alistair asked, husky and shaking. Crowley was hot, and tight, and all the things he’d always relished, but he was also delicate and flighty. Alistair desperately wanted to carry him over that edge and hold him while he let go, but the restraint was torturous. 

“N-no..” Crowley stammered and Alistair immediately put his hands under Crowley to ease him gently off but Crowley frantically grabbed at his forearms to stop him. 

“No, no, no, no. Legs. No legs.” His shaky exhale revealed. 

“Again?” Alistair teased before kissing him. “Not to worry, hold on tight my darling.” Crowley wrapped his arms around Alistair’s neck, hugging in tight, burying his hands in the downy softness of his hair and inhaling their mingled scents deeply. Alistair held him in place with one arm around his waist as he tipped them over onto the mattress, the other controlling their descent. 

“How’s that my dear?” He asked as Crowley sank into the mattress and threw his head back. Alistair grabbed a pillow and slid it under Crowley’s hips. 

“Please…” Crowley begged.

“Mmmm?” Alistair responded as he gently kissed up his neck, letting him adjust to the new position. 

“‘Blivion…”

Alistair chuckled. “With pleasure.” He responded, far too brightly in Crowley’s opinion, but mercifully without the wiggle. Slowly beginning to move, Alistair kept an eye on Crowley’s face once more as he settled into a rhythm. Each purposeful thrust was rapidly causing the tension to build in them both, Alistair fighting to stave off the inevitable as he buried himself in Crowley’s body again and again. He sat up a bit, guiding Crowley’s legs up to his shoulders where he could place soft kisses along the inside of his knees and wrap his hands around his exquisite ankles, those scintillating painted toenails just on the edge of his vision. Bringing one hand down next to Crowley’s hip, the other busied itself stroking Crowley’s cock in time to his thrusts. 

Crowley’s hands had shot up to the headboard the moment Alistair started moving, locking him in place against the sheer deluge of sensations he was experiencing. The pressure inside him kept on building until Alistair took hold of his cock, and changed the angle of his hips so he was grinding up against Crowley’s prostate and Crowley was lost to the cosmos behind his eyelids with every decadent thrust.

Alistair knew he’d found his mark when Crowley’s body lost all coordination. It wasn’t long before his muscles were tense and his legs shaking.

“Good Lord Crowley, you’re incredible like this, I’m so close…” Alistair said, and the sound of his voice so deep and growling, so full of need, was the final straw as Crowley jerked his way through a seismic event of an orgasm, the sight of which tipped Alistair over straight after him into his own tidal wave of ecstasy with a loud, guttural moan, their aftershocks bouncing off each other until they could catch their breath. 

Crowley regained his senses first, his legs slipping clumsily off Alistair’s shoulders where he was hunched over, propped up on one arm. He vaguely registered the mess on his chest before he noticed with no small measure of awe, just how utterly wrecked Alistair looked as he panted his way back to the present. He reached up and dragged Alistair down by his neck into a gentle kiss, being careful not to squash him into his sticky torso. Alistair let his head hang down next to Crowley’s, resting his forehead on his shoulder, his temple against Crowley’s cheek. 

“Was the oblivion to sir’s liking then?” He mumbled. 

“Top-notch.” Crowley responded. “Stellar performance. Eleven out of ten. Commendations due all round I think.”

Alistair chuckled at this, before carefully withdrawing, and sitting up. He eyed the mess on Crowley’s chest, noting the boneless quality to him with pride. 

“Where might I find a flannel?” He asked. Crowley attempted to get up.

“Nah, s’ok, I’ll sort it.” He mumbled. Alistair put one hand on his shoulder and pushed him back.

“Not a chance, dear boy. Now, flannels?” Crowley’s body was still wilfully ignoring any instructions, leaving him in no fit state to argue. 

“Bathroom.” He replied sleepily, pointing to a door on the wall. Flannel, bowl, and warm water acquired, Alistair carefully cleaned Crowley up and removed the chain to the bedside table despite the sleepy grumbles, before tucking them both into the bed. As Alistair expected, Crowley latched onto him almost instantly in a most delightful manner, and they fell asleep wrapped up tightly in each other, inner voices silenced by the feeling of each other’s bare skin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ithyphallic' - Adjective, (especially of a statue or other representation of a deity) having an erect penis.  
> Because apparently it's such a common thing that we needed a word for it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts the same as chapter 10 in the main fic, so you can read it here, then there will be a link to skip to the right bit once you're done.

Crowley woke up to darkness, his mind scrambling to make sense of the sensation of something out of place, but not unwelcomely so, when he realised it was Alistair’s head tucked into his shoulder, his preposterously soft platinum curls gently tickling his chin. Before he could dwell on the unusual sense of peace the weight of the arm across his chest brought him, he carefully extricated himself, retrieved his boxers from the floor and padded silently out of the room and into the plant room next door.

He stalked around his indoor garden, turning on a small lamp on the floor so he had a low light that wouldn’t disturb Alistair. The light from it was a warm yellow, obscured only where it threw huge, arching shadows on the ceiling of all the leaves, enclosing the space in a silhouetted canopy. The lights of London twinkled at him through the floor to ceiling window, the usual pulsing line of aeroplanes descending towards Heathrow visible on the horizon. Crowley prowled around inspecting the watering system, topping up the liquid feed container and making sure everything was working as it should. He’d paid an eye watering amount of money for this to be installed so his garden would be maintained in his absence, and nothing less than perfection would be tolerated. He tried to quietly hiss a few warnings here and there but his heart just wasn’t in it. Satisfied that each plant was getting everything it needed, he sank gently down on the thick, fluffy, cream rug in the centre of the room to let the enormity of the situation he had gotten himself into, sink in. He shuffled about a bit before settling, unused to the slightly raw feeling.

This room, this oasis filled with the smell of damp earth and lush vegetation, was his calm space. It was as close as he ever got to just stopping. Or at least it had been. He tried to sort through the cacophony of emotions that were whizzing around in his head. It was rare for him to feel this conflicted about a course of action, but Alistair… well, Alistair was different. He’d let himself give in to it, be taken over by it, and now he had to face the consequences. Distractions like this, feelings, clouded his judgement. Logic was cold for a reason. He was never as sharp as he needed to be when cold logic became too fuzzy, and it put everyone in danger. He was so lost in thought, head buried in his hands that he almost lashed out when strong fingers scraped gently at his scalp and down his neck. As it was, he flinched so violently that the hand withdrew with a gasp.

“Alistair, I’m combat trained. Did you not remember what happened last time you snuck up on me?” He grumbled into his hands.

Alistair dropped down next to him. He hadn’t bothered to clothe himself. Crowley sneaked a sideways glance, the sight of Alistair naked in the soft lighting yet another image he wanted to store away forever, then reached over and held his hand where it lay in his lap, interlacing their fingers in a bid to calm his racing heart.

“I don’t recall complaining about it at the time.” Alistair grinned at his surprised expression, leaning sleepily into his side. It was an easy intimacy that took Crowley’s breath away, and yet felt so natural. “These are gorgeous!” He whispered, looking at the plants in dark coloured pots that covered every available space on the edge of the room, and quite a bit of the floor too. “They are all simply wonderful.”

“No, no, no! Don’t be soft on them, they’ll think they can get away with spots.” Crowley hissed, glaring around the room. Alistair looked at him quizzically.

“Talking to plants helps them grow. I just let them know what is expected if they want to grow here.” He growled. Alistair gave him a look that suggested he had seen a lot further into that statement than Crowley was prepared for.

“Which one’s your favourite then?” Alistair asked, his voice again just above a murmur in the comforting half-light.

“I don’t have favourites.” Crowley said darkly.

“Oh come now, there must be one that brings you a smidgeon of joy.” Alistair let out a dozy laugh that ended with a yawn that had Crowley wondering since when did he find fully grown men adorable? Since when did he find anything 'adorable', for that matter, he was a highly trained protection operative. He didn't do ‘adorable'.

“Nope. They all have to earn their place here.”

Alistair sighed. “I like forget-me-nots. Not that I can grow anything, you’ve seen my garden, but they seem to manage by themselves, popping up wherever they please with their charming little flowers. And when I see them I know warmer weather is coming. Come now, introduce me. What’s that one?” Alistair asked, pointing to a plant in front of them in the window in a dark blue pot, all tall spikes of green edged in yellow.

“Sansevieria. Also known as snake plant. The lads gave me it when I left active service. Their idea of a joke.” Alistair leaned his head down on Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley rested his cheek into his moonlight curls. It was impossible not to, they were right there. 

“How appropriate.” Alistair commented, glancing down towards the tattoo and bemoaning the presence of underwear. “And that one?” He asked, pointing to a large plant rambling up the grey wall with slender, green, heart shaped leaves that were marred with streaks of white.

“Epipremnum aureum, or Devil’s Ivy. If you water it too much, it cries the extra water out of the tips of its leaves.”

“You’re making that up!” Alistair chuckled, and Crowley could feel the vibrations of it down his side, soothing and joyful at the same time.

“Nope. It’s a voracious bugger as well. It’ll take over given half the chance, smothering everything in its path.” He glared at it.

“Alright, what about that one? Does it shoot spines at me perhaps, if I water it too much?” Alistair pointed to a low explosion of thick, fleshy, grey-green leaves with dark spines at the tip, sat in a low, grey pot in the window next to the snake plant. Crowley chuckled.

“No, that’s an agave. Agave Macroacantha, or large-thorned Agave. Spiky little buggers, they’ve got thorns down the edges of the leaves, and the spikes at the leaf tip are dark as well so you don’t see them until they’re half way into your hand. It's a desert plant so they don't need too much water, but the spikes make it a pain in the arse to handle come repotting time. This one's ornamental, but its relative, the Blue Agave, only flowers once before dying, and the sap from its flower is used to make tequila. The sap from the leaves makes agave syrup so while they’re razor sharp on the outside, they’re actually really sweet on the inside.”

Alistair twisted his head to look up at him with another all too knowing expression and Crowley nearly lost himself in the way the light reflected in his serene blue eyes. It felt like those eyes saw right through him, and it was bizarrely comforting. 

Crowley sighed. “Look, Alistair, this” he began, lifting their clasped hands, “I can’t do this. This was a mistake. I’m… I’m your bodyguard, I can’t get tangled up like this.” Alistair sat back to look at him properly. He looked crushed. Crowley’s chest hurt.

“It’s the ultimate cliché and it never works out. I’ve seen it happen too many times. I can’t protect you like this. I can’t be who you want me to be. Not as well as being what you need me to be right now, and right now there is still a credible threat to your safety. I have to focus on that, for your sake. I’m sorry.”

Alistair looked like he was about to cry. “But… you said…” he started. Crowley’s throat felt tight.

“And I meant every word of it Angel. I did. You have done nothing wrong, this is all on me. But it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t do this. I can’t get involved with someone I need to protect.” He still couldn’t let go of Alistair’s hand. If anything he was gripping it tighter.

“So that’s the way it has to be then?” Alistair asked, his voice icy cold and piercing.

“I’m afraid so.”

“No. You don’t just get to say what you did, do what you did, what we did, and then walk away like this. I thought you were on my side?” Alistair was getting angry.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but you’ll either have to live with it, or fire me.” Crowley said, turning away.

“But I can’t fuck you?!” Alistair pushed Crowley’s hand out of his lap. This wasn’t fair.

“No. You can’t. We can’t. When I take you home in the morning, that’s it. I’m sorry.” Crowley looked down into his lap. Why was his chest hurting so much? He tried sucking down a few deep breaths but it didn’t help. He felt angry, and jittery, and the pain in his chest just wouldn’t FUCK OFF.

Alistair looked at him, hurt and angry and disbelieving. There had to be a way to make this work, there just had to.

Crowley felt Alistair's hand come up to gently cup his cheek, and urge his head up, to look into his face which was suddenly much closer again and he felt the rising tide of whatever the fuck he was feeling fade away. Crowley didn’t want to look into his eyes, but he’d always been prone to self-sabotage. 

“It’s not morning yet.” Alistair said quietly, his thumb brushing over Crowley’s lip before his hand swept around to the back of his neck and buried itself in his hair.

“No. It’s not.” He murmured back, leaning into him, hating himself for how much he needed this, for being weak, for craving the closeness so desperately. Hating the way he buried himself in Alistair’s neck, greedy and insistent, as he tipped him gently backwards onto the fluffy rug. Hating the way he went so willingly.

Alistair laid back onto the soft, cream rug, warm from the underfloor heating. This room was in stark contrast to the rest of the flat. It felt so vibrant, so cosy and welcoming, the brittle sounds of life softened by the foliage that covered the walls. As Crowley nipped at his earlobe he bit back a moan.

“Alistair,” Crowley growled into his ear, his breath ghosting enticingly over it, “when you said you were perfectly capable of being quiet if the occasion calls for it…”

“Ye… ooh. Ye-mmpf! Yes, my dear…” He said as Crowley pressed insistent lips across his face and over his mouth.

“This is not one of those occasions.” Crowley observed as he continued the onslaught with his mouth over Alistair’s jaw and down the other side of his neck, adding in some teeth for good measure. 

“Well, I, er, oooooh…” Alistair lost all hope of composure as Crowley simultaneously licked up his throat and lightly pinched his nipple, whilst pressing his body very firmly against him and pinning him down quite delightfully into the fluffy rug beneath them. Alistair had been told before that he was too noisy, so to be told he could make as much noise as he wanted… He let out an obscene moan that started at the bottom of his throat, and ended up in Crowley’s as he echoed the sentiment. 

Crowley thought he had heard some erotic noises whilst Alistair ate. It was nothing compared to what Alistair was producing now. His repertoire for sounds almost rivalled his library in number and Crowley was determined to find all of them while he had the chance. He explored as much as he could reach with his hands and mouth, sinking teeth into the gorgeously chunky thighs, burying his hands and face all over Alistair’s body in a bid to feel as close as possible as he fought to wriggle out of his pants without losing a moment of contact, finally flicking them off with his toes to land on an orchid. Never staying in the same place for long, his hands and mouth were darting all over Alistair’s body like a child who’d been given the keys to a sweet shop and didn’t know where to start.

Alistair meanwhile was making use of his full vocal range, swinging up and down the octaves, moaning, whimpering, letting out surprised sounds every time he felt the sharp nip of teeth, and it only seemed to spur Crowley on. Alistair couldn’t keep track of all the sensations as they all morphed into a dizzying glow all over. He felt himself rapidly unravelling as skilful hands and playful lips ran rampant all over his body.

Well, almost all over… While he was all for being relished in such an enthusiastic manner, not to mention the positively wicked things Crowley seemed to be able to do with that delightfully sinful tongue… certain parts of his body were starting to become quite desperate for such attention. 

“My dear… ah… if you don’t… mmmmpf… get a wiggle on… ooooh… I shall be forced to take action.”

Crowley’s mouth was currently working his way down the sensitive skin on Alistair’s ribs, kissing each one in turn while his hands were busy with a nipple and a handful of sumptuous bottom respectively. 

“’S your fault for making such pornographic noises Angel. I could get off on just those alone.”

Alistair propped himself up on his elbows so he could give Crowley a stern look. He tried, but as soon as he saw the expression on Crowley’s face he felt himself unravel a bit further. Crowley was looking at him as if he might devour him whole at any moment, a wild lust with a mischievous slant to his lips that sent a wave of arousal crashing over him. Alistair decided he very much wanted to be devoured please, and as soon as possible.

Grinning, Crowley slithered down between Alistair’s thighs, sliding his arms under his legs and up to grab two handfuls of hip as he pushed Alistair’s knees up and out. With one last devilish smirk he bent his head down a licked a warm, wet stripe up Alistair’s cock, eliciting a gasp, before wrapping his tongue around it, and drawing it into his mouth.

Crowley may have had a sharp tongue when he spoke, but right now it was considerably softer around the edges as it worked its way up and down the shaft of Alistair’s cock, rubbing, swirling, and generally being impossibly agile in the most obscene manner. Alistair had closed his thighs around Crowley’s head in shock at the feeling at first, only for Crowley to growl out a warning over his cock and the vibrations of that had him throwing his knees wide with a wanton moan, so of course Crowley did it again. 

With the barrage of stimulation Alistair was feeling, the sight of Crowley down there between his spread thighs, the muscles on his back writhing as he moved, it was all too much. Particularly with the way Crowley was grasping his hips, pulling Alistair into him with every downward sweep of his mouth. Alistair was leaning on his arms so couldn’t touch and see at the same time, and by god did he want to touch now he wasn’t able to. Then Crowley looked up at him as he sucked him down all the way to the hilt, swallowing around him where he pushed into Crowley’s throat, and Alistair felt the tell-tale pressure rising as his hips bucked up into that devious mouth. 

“Oh! Fu-fu-fu-fuck…” Alistair stammered out as his body began to tense up, hips jerking upwards as he threw his head back and closed his eyes. 

Before he could lose himself completely, Crowley lifted off with one parting swirl of his tongue over the head of Alistair’s cock and looked up at him. He watched the rise and fall of Alistair’s chest, the way the low lighting made his body glisten, the pounding pulse he could see in his arched and vulnerable throat where his head was thrown back in ecstasy. He wanted this, he wanted all of this so much it was tearing him apart, but he didn’t want to be done yet. He didn’t ever want to be done. He wanted to draw the curtains and ask morning to pass them by. 

“Language, Angel.” He teased, and Alistair’s head snapped back up looking indignant. 

“Oh you fiend. If you don’t get back down there this instant, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll never talk to you again!”

A brief flash of uncertainty moved across Crowley’s face, before the smirk was back and time stood still for Alistair as Crowley slithered his way back up his torso to his face, teasing his body over Alistair’s cock, letting it run down his chest leaving a faint trail in its wake. Alistair couldn’t help but eagerly watch the way he moved, his body flowing as if joints were other people’s problems. It was outrageously sexual, and he couldn’t quite believe that such an exquisite creature was looking at him like that, let alone naked and behaving very much like he might ravish him at any moment. A prospect that had him biting his lip at the very thought of it.

“’S fine.” Crowley murmured in his ear as he pressed wet lips to Alistair’s neck. “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to speak anyway.”

Alistair couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped at that, tilting his head to give Crowley better access to where he was biting into the flesh between neck and shoulder. The shiver that elicited brought his knees closer together again, gripping Crowley’s hips, which began to slide down until Alistair felt the solid weight of his cock pressed against him. He squeezed his thighs around Crowley, dragging him closer, feeling the arms braced either side of him shake as Crowley dropped his head onto Alistair’s shoulder with a groan. 

“Fuck me Alistair, you’re insatiable aren’t you?” He said, his forehead pressed into Alistair’s collarbone. The feeling of those luscious thighs gripping him so tightly was the stuff of fantasy as far as Crowley was concerned. Or, at least, it would be from now on. 

“I do believe I have already fucked you, my dear. I was rather hoping you might return the favour.” And the way Crowley’s cock twitched against him at that was enough to make both of them shiver with anticipation. 

Crowley dragged his head up to look at him, slightly concerned. 

“Have you ever…? I mean, It’s not like I don’t want to… Fuck knows I do, but I’m not exactly the wisest choice if it’s your first time this way around Alistair.” It took Alistair a moment to work out what he meant by that. 

“Oh goodness me, no.” He said as he lay back down. “I’m happy either way. Insatiable, remember? But it’s very sweet of you to check.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sweet.” He said, his voice low and menacing, his face dipping low over Alistair’s, noses touching. 

“Deep down you are. Look, there’s even a long prick halfway into my hand.” He said, smirking as he reached down and wrapped his hand around Crowley’s cock. “Well, all the way now. And if it’s your size you’re worried about, I’m sure I shall be just fine.” Alistair smiled at him.

“‘Just fine’?” Crowley raised a mock-offended eyebrow, determined not to give in and rock into the maddeningly stationery hand.

“Well I can hardly rate your performance if you haven’t actually performed yet, can I?” And there was that pout, the one Alistair always did when he wanted something. Crowley felt his insides light up again, another challenge that he was now, once again, powerless to ignore. 

“Bastard.” He said with a grin, surging down to capture Alistair’s self-satisfied smile with his mouth, biting at his lip and just barely pushing into his hand before pulling away again. 

“Stay here.” He instructed. “Don’t you dare move.” With one last lascivious sweep of his eyes over Alistair laid out beneath him all flushed and gorgeous, he wrenched himself away and disappeared back to the bedroom. 

When Crowley returned, Alistair had rolled to one side, head propped up on one hand, facing away from the door. The low lighting threw soft shadows across the curves of his body, highlighting the delicious lushness of his naked form with a warm glow. Crowley took a moment to commit this scene to memory, the generous thighs, the plumpness of his backside, the luxuriant dips and curves of his back and, fuck, the coy smile he was giving him over his rounded, naked shoulder. 

“You deserve to be painted, looking like that.” He said, his voice gravelly. “Titian would weep, it would be his finest masterpiece. And instantly banned in all nations for the scandal it would cause.”

Alistair dipped his gaze demurely at this, the flush of his arousal mixing with a blush on his cheeks at the praise and Crowley couldn’t hold back any longer. He sank himself down behind Alistair, matching his pose and depositing the lube and a couple of condoms in front of him so he could wrap an arm around Alistair’s stomach and pull their bodies flush together. He indulged in grabbing a handful of Alistair’s arse as he pressed himself against him. He was so warm and inviting and it was driving Crowley to distraction. Scrabbling around for the bottle of lube as he pressed urgent kisses along his shoulder, he shoved the bottle into Alistair’s free hand, who turned to look at him quizzically. Crowley held his hand under the bottle, palm up, and raised an eyebrow at him, mouth still pressed into his skin, until he got the message. 

“Oh!” Alistair said with a wiggle, flicking the lid off and turning the bottle over to deposit a fair amount onto Crowley’s waiting fingers, before re-closing the cap and dropping it back with easy reach. He drew one leg up towards his stomach as Crowley moved his hand around behind him. Alistair was apprehensive, but he trusted Crowley. A trust that was rewarded with the first, exquisite fingertip as it gently slid inside. Alistair threw his hand down onto the carpet, pushing back onto the sensation as his face screwed up into a silent expression of pleasure. 

“Let me hear you, Angel.” Crowley murmured behind him, his warm breath ghosting over the skin behind his ear.

So he did. Alistair let out a whole new litany of filthy moans as Crowley gently worked him open, all the while nuzzling his face into the back of Alistair’s neck, murmuring praise and keeping their bodies flush together. Crowley was losing his mind over not only the noises, but the feeling of them reverberating in his chest where their bodies were pressed together. Alistair ground down against his cock and it was maddening. After a while he gently withdrew his finger to a whine from Alistair, who shot him a disgruntled look before he realised and grabbed the lube again to squeeze onto Crowley’s waiting hand. Back he went, and this time as Alistair felt the second finger enter, his hand flew up and back to grab a handful of Crowley’s hair, pulling him closer as his back arched and his arse pressed even harder into Crowley’s desperate cock. Crowley bit down into his neck. 

“Crowley, I swear to fuck if you don’t aaaaarghfffgl” Alistair descended into garbled sounds and Crowley grinned. 

“So that’s where that’s hiding…”

Crowley took his time preparing Alistair. He knew it wasn’t worth rushing, regardless of how desperate he felt. Every time Alistair tried to tell him to hurry up he pressed his fingers over Alistair’s prostate, until he realised Alistair was doing it deliberately, the incorrigible bastard. 

Alistair fumbled a hand down between them and grabbed Crowley’s straining cock, stroking it as best he could with minimal room to move, relishing the solid heat of it, the weight of it in his hand. A teasing little glimpse of what was to come. 

Crowley’s movements faltered and his forehead pressed into the back of Alistair’s shoulder. 

‘Stop, stop, ugh Alistair you can’t do that.” Alistair pulled away. “If you start doing that I won’t last and you’ll get that disappointed pout.” He said, his voice shaking. He resumed his own hand movements, pressing up against Alistair once more. 

“You drive me mad Alistair,” he growled into his ear, “the sounds, the feel of you, I want to enjoy you for as long as possible so for now, hands off.” Alistair began to pout so Crowley ran his fingers over his prostate again and chuckled at the squeak it elicited. 

It took a while, and more fingers, and Alistair begging, but eventually Crowley picked up one of the condoms. 

“Should I be concerned about the second one?” Alistair asked. “I’m not sure how much more I can take of this.”

“Nah.” Crowley replied as he rolled the condom down over himself. “’S just a backup. Sometimes they split when I’m putting them on and I had no intention of leaving your side for a moment.” He added a generous amount of lube as well, just to make sure.

Before Alistair could think of a witty response Crowley had tipped him onto his back and was looming over him, settling himself between his legs. Crowley grabbed two handfuls of rug and rolled it up under Alistair to prop him up, then sank down onto one elbow as Alistair raised his knees. 

“Ready Angel?” He asked, the tip of his cock pressing at Alistair’s entrance as he looked into his eyes. Alistair was so overcome by the beautiful, caring expression on his face and the way the lamp made his hair glow that he quite forgot to answer. _No dear boy, it’s you that Titian would weep over..._

“Alistair?” Crowley tried again.

“Huh? Oh! God yes. Tally-ho.” He responded with a wiggle. Crowley’s whole body shuddered as he groaned and bit his lip. 

“Fuck’s sake.” He whispered, before guiding himself into Alistair with gentle pressure. Relaxing his body, Alistair was overcome with the wonderfully extravagant stretch as Crowley slowly breached him, dropping down onto both elbows either side. His hands came up to clutch at Crowley’s shoulders, feeling the movement of the muscles in his back, the tautness there as he pushed his way in. Crowley’s cheek was pressed into the side of Alistair’s face and he could dimly feel him shaking with the restraint it took to go slowly. Alistair could barely form a coherent thought, his whole body taken over by the sensation of wonderful, complete, fullness. Crowley paused and took a couple of deep breaths. 

“You ok?” He asked, whispering into Alistair’s ear. 

“Darling you feel incredible.” Alistair breathed, fighting the instinct to dig his heels into Crowley’s backside to make him move. Alistair wasn’t exaggerating, he had had other lovers, but nothing had felt like this, He’d never felt such a connection to another person like he felt here, never felt so safe and cared for than with Crowley in this softly lit, quiet, metropolitan paradise garden. 

“Let me know if it gets too much.” Crowley instructed before moving again, and somehow there was even more. When, finally, Crowley bottomed out, his hips pushed up against the swell of Alistair’s arse, he let out a shuddering breath. 

“Still ok?” He whispered.

“Mnyeh…” Alistair mumbled out, already incoherent from the feeling of so much _Crowley_ inside him. A shiver rippled through him and Crowley tensed up, his cock twitching and for a moment they were stuck in a loop of shivers and twitches as they both adjusted. 

“Fuck, Alistair I am not going to last at all if you do that, you feel so good I’m already half way there just getting in.” Alistair whimpered at the praise.

Then Crowley began to move, long, deliriously slow strokes at first, paying close attention to the sounds Alistair was making, watching him for any hint of discomfort, then picking up the pace and intensity as the noises did. 

Alistair was pleasantly surprised to find that Crowley didn’t go too fast, instead preferring to linger on the drag as their bodies moved together, and Crowley had quite a bit to work with in that respect. Alistair had shifted his hands from Crowley’s back to grabbing fistfuls of the rug either side of him, utterly overcome by the way it felt as their bodies moved against each other, slick with sweat and arousal. Crowley was leaning on his elbows, his hands wrapped under Alistair’s shoulders to hold him in place as he put his extraordinarily flexible spine to good use to drive himself deeply into Alistair with each long stroke. His face was buried in Alistair’s neck, occasionally kissing but mostly just being as close as possible.

Crowley would have checked in with Alistair again, but the wanton noises had taken a back seat in favour of a mantra of ‘yes’s, punctuated by the odd ‘fuck yes’, and Crowley’s favourite so far, ‘holy fuck yes!’ with the occasional ‘Oh Crowley!’ thrown in for good measure. And if he thought he could get off on just the sounds Alistair made, the way he was saying his name right now was almost certain to get him there. So between that and the way Alistair’s ankles were crossed in an unbreakable deadlock behind him and urging him deeper, he figured Alistair was more than ‘just fine’. 

In fact, Crowley was the one in trouble. He was barely holding himself together. From the first moment Alistair had felt good. No, he’d felt fucking fantastic, reassuringly solid and yet satisfyingly soft on the outside, and now, hot and tight and greedy on the inside. He could feel Alistair’s cock hot and hard and leaking between them, pressing into his belly. He could feel the sumptuous give of his buttocks, the satisfying way they yielded to his unrelenting hips. Just perfect. It was as if all Crowley’s impossibly random desires had somehow come together in one improbable body (with a few newly discovered ones for good measure) and Crowley wanted to bury himself in him and never leave. But insistent hands were pushing at his shoulders, urging him to sit up. 

“Up, Crowley, I want to see you, please.” Alistair begged, and Crowley dragged himself up onto his hands, placing one either side of Alistair’s hips, pinning them in place so his thrusts wouldn’t result in carpet burn on top of everything else.

And oh god he was not prepared for the way Alistair looked on his floor, thoroughly debauched, eyes barely open, one arm stretched above his head and the other at his mouth where he was biting down on his finger, hair a carefree mess half plastered down with sweat, and a crooked smile on his face. Almost completely undone and devastatingly beautiful for it. Crowley was not prepared for the way Alistair looked at him with naked desire as his eyes wandered over his body, drinking him all in. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this, so leaned onto one arm, bringing the other hand up to firmly stroke Alistair in time to his thrusts, noting the way his eyes rolled back in his head with satisfaction and the sounds became more and more urgent until both hands were tangled in the carpet above his head, and Alistair’s legs began to shake around him. 

He couldn’t help himself but grin as he angled his hips in such a way that caused Alistair to shout out loud, his eyes widening. One, two, three long drags of a firm hand down his cock, and an even firmer cock across his prostate and Alistair looked right at him as he tipped over that precipice, his whole body locking up as Crowley’s name wormed its way out through gritted teeth. And that was enough for Crowley to follow with his own release, thrusts turning erratic as he pulsed deep inside Alistair, eliciting a whimper as Crowley grunted out “Fuck, Angel.”

Then Crowley’s arms finally gave out and he collapsed onto Alistair’s body as they both gasped for air. Neither moved for a while, basking motionless in the after-glow as their bodies softened, save for Alistair absent-mindedly stroking Crowley’s hair where his head lay over his shoulder. Crowley reluctantly and carefully withdrew, peeling away where they had stuck to each other in their mess, staggering off on newborn deer legs and returning with some warm water and a couple of cloths. Alistair let himself be cleaned up, before Crowley tended to himself. Underwear retrieved from the orchid and reinstated, he stood up and stuck out a hand to help Alistair up. Permitting himself to be pulled back to his feet, Alistair threw his arms around Crowley and held him close before he had a chance to move away again, committing to memory the feeling of Crowley’s naked skin against his own. They stood like that, silently embracing in the middle of all the plants, for some time, heads on shoulders, hands in hair or trailing gently across bare skin, before Crowley switched off the light with a toe and they stumbled back to bed hand in hand by the light of streetlights outside. Once back inside the warmth of the bed, Crowley didn’t immediately move to wrap himself around Alistair. 

“Alistair, you know I still can’t… we can’t…” He tried, voice unwilling to even say the words. 

“I know, Crowley. Just… hold me? Tonight?” Alistair asked. And Crowley could give him that. As they tangled themselves into each other, settling into the warmth of another’s skin against their own, they both fell asleep trying not to think about what might happen come morning. 

It would be enough. It had to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I can never look any of you in the eye ever again. 
> 
>   
> [On with the plot!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241204/chapters/61104109#return-welcomeback)

**Author's Note:**

> If you think I should/shouldn't have tagged anything, please let me know in the comments and I'll correct it. This is the first E fic I've written, so I'm still getting my head around the tags.


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